Akaky Akakyovich (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} admiralbunny) wrote,@ 2005-06-17 10:00:00 |
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uncreative title
I have this weird blotchy sunburn from where I haphazardly spread (or didn't spread) the sunblock while at the beach last Sunday. And Sunday wasn't even very sunny. Some sun did peek out when we left the beach for the pool, and I think my marathon hopping around/floating in the cool chlorinated water is where the most damage was done. Swimming pools have the ability to make me into a fool. I usually spend the time floating about inhaling and exhaling to see if I can keep my whole body just touching the surface. Or else, I'll bounce up and down for about an hour. Just hop up out of the water, then sink back down blowing out through the nose, then popping back up again. It's extremely meditative but also makes me look like a loon.
Last Friday I left work at noon. I had worked straight through every day at work that week with no lunch breaks so that I could leave early without having to use any time. I made it to the airport at 1:30 and had a delectable lunch of a yellow tail hand roll and fried crab wontons at the Asian Bistro at the airport. With a Sapporo to wash it all down. I left the restaraunt feeling great; it was the perfect start to my relaxing vacation. Little did I know what the future held.
Eight hours later I was still sitting in the airport, at a new gate, waiting to board the plane. I had read almost every page of the 150-page Debut Fiction edition of the New Yorker. That is a lot of New Yorker reading, but without the magazine I would have had to lift my head and take in the dismal surroundings. For most of those hours I was at a gate filled with three airplanes' worth of passengers and faltering air conditioning. There was one Yoko Ono-ish attendant at the gate, trying to answer all of our questions, but only one gentleman lost his temper. I made friends with an older British couple who were going to see their daughter and grandchild in West Palm Beach, and a Pakistani man with whom I kept trading off my seat as we got up to check on our respective flights. Eventually I went to another gate and got a boarding pass for the next flight to WPB which I had double booked for in the beginning of the whole ordeal. We finally took off at about 10:30 when my original flight was scheduled to leave at 3:25. My brother and sister picked me up at the airport, and we went to my aunt and uncles, had a drink, and went to bed - but of course, I couldn't sleep after snoozing almost the whole way down.
Saturday afternoon I found the most beautiful, perfect wedding dress in the midst of the 57,895 dresses I tried on. The changing room was a slew of lace and silk organza. The only problem with the dress is that it costs 7 times the amount I want to spend on a dress, so it's out. It is sooooooooooooo pretty, though. It almost broke my poor little heart. But then I realized that I don't care all that much, and that I can hopefully find something just as good within my budget. That's what everyone tells me, anyway.
The next four days were spent lounging at the beach or the pool and getting that weird burn. It's on my ankles, but my calves are still white; my thighs are red as is just below my boobs, my chest is red but the back of my arms isn't. It's odd. But at least I'm not pasty white as I usually am at all times of the year and am a mortal embarrassment when I put on a bathing suit.
Yesterday I had a stupid job interview and tonight I'm going to NYC for the weekend. Cheers!
I have this weird blotchy sunburn from where I haphazardly spread (or didn't spread) the sunblock while at the beach last Sunday. And Sunday wasn't even very sunny. Some sun did peek out when we left the beach for the pool, and I think my marathon hopping around/floating in the cool chlorinated water is where the most damage was done. Swimming pools have the ability to make me into a fool. I usually spend the time floating about inhaling and exhaling to see if I can keep my whole body just touching the surface. Or else, I'll bounce up and down for about an hour. Just hop up out of the water, then sink back down blowing out through the nose, then popping back up again. It's extremely meditative but also makes me look like a loon.
Last Friday I left work at noon. I had worked straight through every day at work that week with no lunch breaks so that I could leave early without having to use any time. I made it to the airport at 1:30 and had a delectable lunch of a yellow tail hand roll and fried crab wontons at the Asian Bistro at the airport. With a Sapporo to wash it all down. I left the restaraunt feeling great; it was the perfect start to my relaxing vacation. Little did I know what the future held.
Eight hours later I was still sitting in the airport, at a new gate, waiting to board the plane. I had read almost every page of the 150-page Debut Fiction edition of the New Yorker. That is a lot of New Yorker reading, but without the magazine I would have had to lift my head and take in the dismal surroundings. For most of those hours I was at a gate filled with three airplanes' worth of passengers and faltering air conditioning. There was one Yoko Ono-ish attendant at the gate, trying to answer all of our questions, but only one gentleman lost his temper. I made friends with an older British couple who were going to see their daughter and grandchild in West Palm Beach, and a Pakistani man with whom I kept trading off my seat as we got up to check on our respective flights. Eventually I went to another gate and got a boarding pass for the next flight to WPB which I had double booked for in the beginning of the whole ordeal. We finally took off at about 10:30 when my original flight was scheduled to leave at 3:25. My brother and sister picked me up at the airport, and we went to my aunt and uncles, had a drink, and went to bed - but of course, I couldn't sleep after snoozing almost the whole way down.
Saturday afternoon I found the most beautiful, perfect wedding dress in the midst of the 57,895 dresses I tried on. The changing room was a slew of lace and silk organza. The only problem with the dress is that it costs 7 times the amount I want to spend on a dress, so it's out. It is sooooooooooooo pretty, though. It almost broke my poor little heart. But then I realized that I don't care all that much, and that I can hopefully find something just as good within my budget. That's what everyone tells me, anyway.
The next four days were spent lounging at the beach or the pool and getting that weird burn. It's on my ankles, but my calves are still white; my thighs are red as is just below my boobs, my chest is red but the back of my arms isn't. It's odd. But at least I'm not pasty white as I usually am at all times of the year and am a mortal embarrassment when I put on a bathing suit.
Yesterday I had a stupid job interview and tonight I'm going to NYC for the weekend. Cheers!
